Much chatter around town as the Sunday Telegraph's legendary Ros Reines is finally laid off after the News Corp axe falls on a number of employees (it's always Danger Time when Rupert Murdoch hits town). One thing is for sure, you could not ignore Reines who became feared for her exposes and sharp words but loved by readers. Her byline "The Columnist They Can't Silence"was well deserved
Packer-just before he spotted Reines at his party
It's odd but for a country that claims not to take society and their shenanigans seriously, it's also a country that seems particularly sensitive to even the slightest criticism
Timothy Swallow
Whispers having worked in both London and New York where the old adage- as long as they spell the name correctly- still holds sway has found Sydneysiders rather thin skinned. So of course, we are terribly nice to everyone. Whispers first encountered Ros Reines many moons ago when she wrote for a magazine called London Index where a great friend, the late Timothy Swallow also worked. Swallow went on to work for the Daily Mail gossip king Nigel Demspter and then wrote the famous William Hickey column on the Daily Express. Sadly Timothy died during a trip to Australia but he always paid tribute to Reines superiority in being able to present a paragraph that was both amusing and wicked at the same time.
Kelly Cutrone in Sydney
# Timothy Swallow &Whispers put the then languishing film Mommie Dearest on the map during a trip to New York. A tale for another time.
Ros appeared in these pages when we reported on her tussle with New York PR Kelly Cutrone. At the time a well known New York columnist lamented that in another era Reines & Cutrone would have got on a like a house on fire, so similar were their temperaments. Whispers was also with Reines at the famous Nine Network TV season launch on Garden Island when media king James Packer took her aside and tore strips off her over some alleged sleight. It became the only news that weekend as new TV offerings were forgotten. In fact, we also appeared in the same Australian Story about gossip writers along with writer Simon Kent (now on the Toronto Sun in Canada). No doubt Ros Reines with a wealth of local social knowledge will surface in a new capacity and publication but it's an indication of the rapidly changing world of media.
One of the leading lights of the Sydney social scene, Bill Ranken has passed away at age 85 after a brief fight with cancer.
Bill was known for the last 10 years or so as a photographer and a must addition to any smart party or red carpet launch but his life was one of great variety in many different occupations.
Brought up on the family estate near Goulburn, Ranken lost interest in working on the property when a tractor accident cost him the sight in one eye.
Whispers first encountered Bill over 30 years ago when he arrived at a Mayfair art gallery on the arm of the late Princess Margaret causing gossip as perhaps her latest flame with his tall elegant looks. "Landed gentry from Australia" was legendary Daily Mail gossip columnist Nigel Dempster's description when asked who Margaret's date was.
Chatting with Bill at the launch- an exhibition of artists Gilbert & George's huge canvas depicting bodily functions he leaned over to the Princess and quipped: "for God's sake don't look too closely Margaret, it will put you off the champagne".
Commenting that we were soon leaving for Sydney to live, Bill retrieved a business card from his wallet- he always carried a variety from his different jobs -and a phone call 6 months later started a long friendship of nightly telephone "debriefings" as we called them, to chat and laugh about everyone and everything that had happened during our day.
Ranken was often far grander than those he photographed. As co-owner with his sister Jean of two of the most desired country properties in the state, he was a millionaire many times over but few seem to know. With houses on both properties at Gunning and Goulburn, Bill lived an almost monkish style life usually bedding down in the working men's quarters in a barn. When not planting trees or retrieving lost sheep he loved to check on his favourite animals, ducks, which he had installed in the various lakes.
In Sydney he lived in an Elizabeth Bay apartment and breakfasted at one of the local cafes sipping Green Tea which he swore kept him youthful.
A man of great contrasts he had an innate ability to talk to anyone and everyone no matter their status and make each feel important. He would laugh that he sat next to former Prime Minister Malcolm Fraser at the snobby Tudor House prep school. "God Malcolm was boring when he was young" Bill would say and Fraser would return the compliment saying to Bill "you give our class a bad name" referring to Bill's admitted snobbishness But he was anything but.
In the morning he may have a quick chat with a Kings Cross stripper, hooker or a nightclub bouncer on their way home after a night's work. In the afternoon he could be chatting to Barry Humphries at a Double Bay cafe while later that evening he might be dining with Princess Mary of Denmark.
Meeting a new young artist, actor, singer perhaps a budding caterer Bill was always happy to delve into his extensive list of contacts and help in anyway he could. With a natural kindness and expecting nothing in return, there are numerous now famous names who pay tribute to Bill's ability to point them in the right direction after a chance meeting. Always alert to meeting an interesting new person on the circuit he could also be cynical at times : "if Jesus Christ came through the Heads I'd want to know who his PR agent is" he once said.
At a social functions it was no surprise to hear Rupert Murdoch or Kerry Packer or the latest Prime Minster say : "Hi Bill, I need to talk to you about some rural matters" on which he had an encyclopedic knowledge.
For Bill life was never meant to be boring and each day brought an incident to be laughed at and crafted into an amusing anecdote. Even his 6am run from Kings Cross to Double Bay (right up until the last 6 months) brought a tale to tell. He recounted that he was once taking a breather in Rushcutters Bay Park when 2 large policeman emerged from the bushes dragging a naked, wild looking man. "There's my pal Bill Ranken" cried the man who Bill swore he did not recognise. As the nude felon was bundled into a Paddy Wagon he yelled "Bill, please call my solicitor Sir Laurence Street!"
When the Prime Minister Harold Holt disappeared off the Victorian coast in choppy seas in 1967 Bill was disappointed that he had turned down an invitation to accompany the swimming party: "I would have liked to have seen that Chinese sub" said Bill.
Whispers worked with Bill on many different projects, an airline magazine, Penthouse Magazine after owner Bob Guccione who had flown into town to launch the local edition spotted Bill at the launch party and told the editor: "hire that man immediately as our social correspondent", plus a variety of newspapers. At one stage he put his rural upbringing to good use as the Rural Consultant for the late real estate agent Andrew Gibbons where he advised on properties for identities like Lady Susan Renouf and Lord McAlpine. He nearly got caught in an embarrassing episode when Gibbons asked him to bid during the auction of a harbour side mansion which was knocked down to Ranken for $5M while he wasn't paying attention. He quickly exited out a side gate pursued by the property media.
Whispers produced some of the first real estate videos for Gibbons with Bill fronting the camera. When the visiting British film director Michael Winner expressed interest in purchasing a local property and watched one with Bill extolling the virtues of a Moss Vale estate Winner said "oh bugger the house, I want that man in my next film".
On another occasion he was flown first class to Tonga by the late King George Tupou V who asked Bill to advise on his flock of sheep. Arriving at the airport he was met by the King's limo, a London taxi and driven to a bungalow to be shown just 6 forlorn looking ewes in a small paddock. "Shoot the lot" was Bill's advice.
Taking up photography gave him a reason to be at a party. Bill loved parties even though he rarely drank. He could tell you anecdotes from parties from the 1950s onwards and it gave him a good reason to chat to a pretty girl. Often after asking her name he would exclaim "I took your mother out". Sometimes it was true but in later years that became "I think I took your grandmother out". He dreaded there may come a time when he might be saying he took their great grandmother out.
A few months ago Bill complained of a back pain and uncharacteristic weakness. Diagnosed first as a virus it was eventually found to be liver cancer.. Always practical he said : "I just want go to one of those rest homes where they'll fill me full or morphine until I shuffle off ".
For a while he was cared for by newspaper executive Cristan King in his Bowral home but the cancer got the better of him and Bill died last Thursday. He leaves behind his beloved sister Jean and nephew Matthew and will be missed by many people as another bright light in Sydney is dimmed.
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This was Bill Ranken's favourite song and one he thought summed up his life. From Noel Coward:
Following our story on the decline of the "paparazzi"-or the bunch of hooligans who have partly made the whole media business a complete nightmare, an email arrives to castigate tSS from someone who scarily, certainly knows tSS only too well.
It's difficult to re-call the timeline of the events but tSS aways carried a pocket Box Brownie in London and took the odd snap that occasionally appeared in such revered outlets like the legendary William Hickey column in the UK's Daily Express or the World's Greatest Living Englishman Nigel Dempster's column in the Daily Mail .
tSS has been accused of many things including only recently by a former London scribe of note, of being a "peripheral character' on the London scene-whatever that scene was . We've always regarded this lifetime as sort of peripheral . We have been here before and most likely will visit again. You know-reincarnation and all that.
Indeed at the recent event in Sydney at which the Dalai Lhama spoke and tSS had the opportunity to ask a question-which was "will I return in another life and what will I be ?"-the answer from his Holiness was "yes ..as you !"..Brrrrr.
Nigel Dempster was regarded as the man who invented the modern gossip column which was hugely successful until his latter years. Sadly he died relatively young at 65.
He once hauled tSS over the coals on a Sunday afternoon at the Mail office when we delivered a snap which he ran the next day.
He accused tSS of being a "dreadful Australian who probably calls a dress "a frock"-and did you fuck this woman to get the snap ?". (a movie star who shall remain nameless..and yes we sort of did-but we didn't- if you can work that out ) A right dressing down if somewhat bizarre. Or perhaps a "get frocked"
It was most peculiar, especially at the time we didn't know Dempster's own dad was an Aussie-just like the sensational Mick Jagger who has an Aussie mum .
tSS 's origins are far more murkier and mysterious although a few colonials do feature. It was always Dempster's favoured insult as we appeared in his office.."oh here comes that tiresome Aussie"
But being accused of calling a dress a "frock". There really was no answer to that . What could one say ? . Dempster spat it out like it was the worst insult he could have hurled.
But we digress. After our attack upon the paparazzi which the The Times saw fit to take up- a real blast from the past arrives that rips into tSS over a snap we took eons ago with a story so innocuous-which was duly reported by a Fleet Street rag, that 2 of HRH Prince Andrew's ex-girlfriends had arrived at the same small soiree in a house just of the Kings Road in Chelsea.
Koo Stark (left) was in one corner (not looking like that of course) and Katie Rabbet appeared at the door. Ms Rabbet popped her head in, and presumably on spotting Stark, immediately left.
For God's sake £40 was a lot of dosh in those days-it paid the week's rent and a good night out at El Sombrero in Ken High Street. One had to sell the story and the picture and we doubt we sold our soul at the same time.
Fast forward to New York 2 years later and tSS is at a party or some sort of gathering and receives a withering glance from Baroness Francesca Von Thyseen (right)-for it was she who held the party that Andrew's ex-girlfriends had attended.
"How dare you" she said ,"reveal to the press what happens at a party you have been invited to !".
Well yes quite-one might agree if it hadn't been her own publicist who had invited tSS in the first place, presumably-as we imagined-that publicity was what she sought for her then husband, a struggling a rock musician. (who seems to have been wiped from wikpedia's entry on the Thyseen family)
As usual tSS did the only thing a gentleman can do-mumbled something incomprehensible and reached for another drink..
Later, recounting the tale to La Dolce Musto writer Michael Musto (right) who now rules the world from a column in New York's Village Voice he exclaimed.."my God !..she should talk..the Thyseen name is persona non grata in New York !" . We have no idea why.
Amazing-after all these years you can still be tracked down !
And sub-editor Mildred Pierce -who opens all emails-is not a happy pussy.
Sydney can look forward to a fantastic appearance of MacHomer at the Wharf Theatre from January 5-23, before touring to Brisbane, Wollongong and Bathurst.
Rick Miller’s side-splitting and inspired one-man Macbeth transplants Shakespeare into Springfield, home of television’s favorite dysfunctional family, The Simpsons. With Homer in the lead and Marge as Lady MacHomer, Miller recreates the voices of more than 50 characters from the iconic TV series. It is very very funny.
Much chatter around town as the Sunday Telegraph's legendary Ros Reines is finally laid off after the News Corp axe falls on a number of employees (it's always Danger Time when Rupert Murdoch hits town). One thing is for sure, you could not ignore Reines who became feared for her exposes and sharp words but loved by readers. Her byline "The Columnist They Can't Silence"was well deserved
